Heal
by pixieprincess17
Summary: Emma Swan, a victim of domestic violence, constantly endures vicious punches and harsh words from her boyfriend. And when it gets so bad and a trip to the ER is needed, she meets Dr. Killian Jones, the man who will help her heal in all ways possible and in return, so shall she. (It's a bit sad in the beginning, but I promise it'll get better) AU. TRIGGER WARNING: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE.
1. Chapter 1

_He loves me. He still loves me. It was my fault, not his._

Emma Swan held one shaking hand over her eyebrow, her other hand maneuvering the steering wheel to her car. The clock read 3:12 AM, and the gash had been bleeding for two hours. But she couldn't have driven to the hospital while he was still awake. He would've gotten angrier, and it would've been worse for her. _It was my fault, and he still loves me._

Emma pulled up to the parking lot of the hospital, pausing before stepping out of her car to check the makeup over her black eye from two weeks ago. It was only coming off just a little, and if anything she just looked fucking tired. Locking her car behind her, she ran through the hospital doors, alerting the nurses on call of her situation as she suddenly began to cry. She was just so _scared_. He could've have followed her here, or she could've lost so much blood already, or she could have to face him when she got home. The nurse waiting with her assured her the doctor would be here soon, to not cry, that it would all be okay.

The curtain shrouding Emma from the rest of the emergency room pulled open and quickly closed, but Emma's eyes were shut. "Ms. Swan?" a strong male voice said quietly. Her eyes remained closed until she heard a creaking noise, presumably the doctor sitting down in the chair. "I'm Dr. Jones. Can you remove your hand from your forehead please?" Emma's eyes suddenly opened, and she saw a man with soft blue eyes that looked like they weren't going to hurt her, golden scruff that stretched from his pink lips to his ears to a little ways down his neck, a deep side part in his dark black hair. "You can trust me, and I won't ask a single question. I want to help you, okay?" He smiled a small smile, his gloved hand gently grabbing her wrist. She instinctively flinched away, and she tensed, hoping he didn't notice.

But he did.

His hand pulled her arm and the black towel away from her forehead to reveal an ugly, bloody, scattering bruise, brown shards of glass still plastered to her forehead, leftovers of the beer bottle that had been smashed on her hours ago.

Dr. Jones exhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat. "I tripped with my drink in my hand." Emma hopelessly covered, laughing an empty laugh. "It was stupid of me." _It was more stupid of me to ask to meet a friend tomorrow._ She sighed heavily as Dr. Jones stood up and sat down on the creaky hospital bed next to her, beginning to clean the wound and pick out the glass shard by shard. She shied away from his male energy at first, but relaxed a little when she realized it was positive. And safe.

"Must've been a pretty bad fall. Are you hands and knees okay?" He asked without looking at her, his insanely blue eyes focused instead on her stinging forehead. Emma's heart stopped. The black and blue handprints wrapped around her forearms were still healing, and thus were _clearly_ visible. "Uh..uh, yeah. I landed on the carpet, so I'm okay." This was her first time going to hospital because of him, and she didn't know how to act or what to say.

_Oh, Jesus,_ Dr. Jones thought, his rubber gloves getting red with blood at the tips as he cleaned the wound. _Oh, fuck._ He knew _exactly_ what this was. He knew she had some nasty bruises she didn't want him to see. He also knew that if whoever did this found out she was here, it'd be just horrible. He didn't understand why the _fuck_ anyone would want to hurt her like this- she was shaking and her eyes were darting around nervously, her back held sickeningly straight. "It's not so bad- the wound's not as deep as you think." He assured her, and she smiled just a bit. He finished cleaning her up, and as he was packing up some antibacterial creams for her, he looked her straight in the eye. "I will make sure that no one can ever access your file of your visits here." He began. "And should this ever happen again, although I hope it doesn't with all my heart, call me and let me know you're coming." He handed her a card with his name on it with a little bag of creams. He placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, looking at her with an expression he'd only hoped was his best attempt at a poker face. "Have a good night, love. Drive safe." And with that, he'd pulled open the curtain, and sauntered out, his back moving from side to side as he walked to check on his next patient. He wondered if giving her his personal phone number was the right plan of action. Yes, she was a complete stranger, but he somehow felt some unspoken connection with her too, as weird as it may be. It didn't feel wrong, that was for sure. He had a heavy lump in his throat, and he was unfocused for the rest of the night. He'd hope to never see her again- or at least not in that condition.

Emma drove home at a slow pace, the radio on softly, the card with his number scrawled haphazardly tucked safely under the driver's seat. Dr. Killian Jones was his name, and Emma decided that it was a nice name. But Neal could _not_ find this. She turned the corner, hoping their house was as she left it- lights off, Chinese food still open on the table. Her heart was beating. If he was awake, she was done for. But she smiled and laughed when the lights were still off, and as she unlocked the front door, the Chinese was still open and cold on the front table. She fell asleep on the couch, her hands and body still shaking a bit as a few silent tears slipped out and onto her cheeks. _Tomorrow will be better. It has to be._ She told herself before going to sleep, her arms folded over her chest and her legs scrunched up.

However, although his shift was physically exhausting, Dr. Killian Jones slept not even a wink that night.

"Wake the_ fuck_ up." Neal spat distastefully at Emma's smushed-up form laying on the couch. She bolted awake, her hand pressing nervously to the bandage on her forehead. _Shit._ He wasn't supposed to know that she went to the hospital. She was supposed to take it off before he got up. "Who bandaged you up, Emma? You went to the hospital, didn't you." He sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol and under his eyes purple and inflamed with lack of sleep, his tone harsh and condescending. "Yes, I went. But I told them I fell." She said quietly, her eyes filling with tears, not even flinching when the slap pierced through her cheek, for she was expecting it.

"What the _fuck,_ Emma. You know the rule. You aren't supposed to go. Ever." His fist was balled up at his side, his lips pressed tightly together. "I'm so sorry, Neal. It was just...it was just bleeding so much. So much." She looked down at the ground, averting his angry eyes. "No one there is onto us?" He said loudly, grabbing her chin to meet her eyes roughly. "No one." she whispered.

"Good." he nodded, standing up, and walking into the kitchen. "Now make me breakfast or else next time it happens, your car won't be able to drive."

He went back to their bedroom to lay down, his head throbbing due to his ridiculous hangover, and Emma sighed heavily, a single tear slipping out of her eyes and down to her cheek. Standing up, she turned on the stove, cracking some eggs into the frying pan and throwing some toast in the toaster. She wondered if Dr. Jones really didn't know, if he actually believed that she fell. She couldn't even believe her own lie, so how could he? Her head pounded as she emptied the eggs onto a plate and carried it to Neal's room, where he was watching tv as if nothing ever happened. He didn't say thank you or acknowledge her presence, and for that Emma was silently grateful.

Meanwhile, in his studio loft, Dr. Killian Jones stood hunched over his kitchen island, his mind flooded with images of that poor woman last night. Her averting, bloodshot eyes, her trembling hands, her instinctive flinch when he touched her. He wish he could help her so much, oh god, _so much._ He took a long sip of coffee. He just couldn't fucking get her out of his head. It all bothered him so much- how scared she was, how on edge she was. He felt like it was he knew her from somewhere, and as the morning when on, in his mind, it suddenly became his job to help her out. And so he would-no matter what it took.


	2. Chapter 2

Killian's iPhone rang, the sound of the marimba bells flowing out of his white coat and into the E.R. It was from a number he didn't recognize, but when he picked up, the voice was clear.

"Dr. Jones?" Emma's voice whispered quietly. His heart sank- he hadn't seen her in three weeks- the last incident being where he punched her so hard he broke a blood vessel in her eye. She had been coming into the hospital every so often, when things were really bad, and Killian always did his best to comfort her and help her, by making sure her records were password-protected, driving her back to where she parked her yellow car in a secret hiding spot, sending her a text every so often to make sure that she was alive and okay. And while he put on a fake aura when he was with her of easiness and relaxation, it stressed him the fuck out. He would go home and throw his bags down, his head in his hands, wondering how he could ever help her get out of this. He would get so frustrated at times that he would throw his coffee cup across the room, leaving a dent, a brown splatter, and a shattered mug instead of answers. "Emma, is everything okay?" He asked quietly. She never, _ever_ called him. Something must have been really bad. "I think I have a concussion and I can't see out of my right eye. I don't think I can drive. I'm so scared, Dr. Jones." His heart hitched up to his throat, his eyes closing heavily as he breathed in. "Killian. Call me Killian for now, okay?" He started. "Okay, love. Is he still in the house?" He started, running to his locker to grab his car keys, mouthing "emergency" to the new intern watching the E.R. as he ran out the door. He knew her address already from her records, and he knew exactly how to get there. He didn't know if this was the right thing to do, but while his head was holding him back his heart pushed him forward, both on the gas pedal and towards her home. "He's upstairs, drunk and asleep, I think." _Well, that was good_.

"Okay, Emma. I'm on my way to pick you up. I want you to pack a little bag- clothes, any medicines, any photographs or any keepsakes, any important papers, anything else you need." His voice stopped abruptly as he made a right turn, thinking of what to say to her next. "_Please_..just.. don't stop talking. Don't stop." Emma said, as she frantically ran around as quietly as possible, feeling blood dripping down her cheek. It was calming to her- his accent was soft and smooth and sounded safe and she trusted him, even though they only knew each other through the confines of the E.R. "I won't then, love. Listen to my voice, okay? I'm about 30 seconds away- and I need you to quietly walk out of the house, close the door behind you." He suddenly saw a hunched over figure step out of a house, and run down the steps, her hand gripped on to the banister, the other holding a phone. "That's me in the black car. Hurry up." The night was so very quiet, and the both of them were worried about even the tiniest sound breaking the glass wall of silence. He hung up the phone as she opened the door and stepped inside, his heart pounding with nervousness. It was an impulse decision to go and pick her up, and although most may think that was the worst decision, he knew it was the best. Being a general surgeon, he was good at making fast decisions and reading emotions, and well, Emma was a bit of an open book. She trusted him, and felt safe with him, even though they had spent a total of maybe 10 hours together, tops.

Emma exhaled a big breath before turning to him, whispering a barely audible "_thank you_" as she closed her eyes and began to cry, the salty tears stinging the wounds all over her face. But she wasn't crying because she was scared, she was crying because she felt _safe_. And safe was something she couldn't ever remember feeling. Not in the system, not out of the system, not even in the beginning of her relationship with Neal. And this new feeling was overwhelming.

Killian pulled up to the hospital, his car haphazardly parked now in between two spots, as he helped her out of the car and let her to the supply room where she usually met him on occasions like this, for extra secrecy. She sat down in the stool, as did he in the one across from her, and began to assess the damage. But before he could even take a look at her eye Emma threw her hands around his back, her chin resting softly on his shoulder, continuing to say thank you as she breathed in his clean scent of laundry detergent and sterilization soap. "I needed to get the hell out of there. And I'm happy you're the one who did it. " She laughed against his shoulder, her arms still wrapped around his broad upper back. She spoke with an ease that he hadn't ever heard in her voice, and he quite liked the sound. He pulled away, smiling, a knowing look in his eyes. "I couldn't shake the feeling that this was what I needed to do. So I did it." He began to examine her, his hands grazing over small lacerations, sticking a clear gauze bandage over them. His hand held the back of her head and she relaxed into it, her cranium heavy in his left hand, his fingers a bit wet from the blood from the broken skin there. "Your eye is pretty bad, not going to lie." He started. "But it's just swollen shut- give it a day or two and you'll be able to start seeing again." She smiled. "And my head?" "No concussion, just a bit of bleeding. It's stopped by now." Killian took a deep breath.

"He punched you, right?" He said to the ground, avoiding the new look of panic he knew was now across her face. She hesitated before answering. "Three times." Emma's heart began to beat fast. The appointment was done, she needed no more help, and it was time to drive back to Neal's. She shook her head in minimal movements, the back of her eyes stinging just a little. "So I guess I'll see you soon." she said quietly, getting up to leave. "I can take the city bus home, don't worry about that."

"No." Killian stated strongly, his read reeling. "I'm not going to let you go home. I can't see you like this again." he looked down at his tennis shoes while saying the next sentence. "I want you to stay with me until you figure everything out." He honestly didn't even understand where this was all coming from, not his mind for sure. Maybe it was the heart that was pounding, the mouth that was dry, the hands that were twitching. "Killian, I can't." He cringed a bit- she'd never called him by his first name before. "He'll find you. And he'll hurt you more than you can possibly imagine."

"I'm willing to take that chance, love." He looked at her, blue eyes piercing the eye that wasn't swollen shut, and she sighed heavily. "Is that why you made me pack a bag?"

"Not entirely. I just wanted you the hell out of there." He said, exposed and raw, his honesty over all. Emma was taken aback by how upfront he was, and after a moment, she smiled. "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

He drove the 24-minute drive back to his apartment after his shift was over, taking her up the elevator and into apartment #4B. He smiled sheepishly as she looked around, her overnight bag clutched tightly in her hands.

"It's not much, and it's messy." he said, hurrying to pick up his pajamas thrown on the floor.

"It's a beautiful place." She still was shaking, her mind reeling of thoughts of Neal beating the shit out of her and Killian in this very apartment, thoughts of Neal finding her, of hurting her again. She tried to hide her trembling by wringing her hands nervously.

Killian hoped he was doing a good job of pretending not to notice.

"I'd bet you want to take a shower." He broke the awkward silence with his loud statement, and Emma nodded vigorously. "I'd love that, yeah." He walked into the bathroom and showed her how to control the pewter temperature dial, how to turn on the shower, and how you had to tug the glass door just a little bit harder for it to close entirely. She smiled at him, and closed the door, the sound of the water hitting the tile floor filling the apartment. Killian sat and waited for 20 minutes on the couch, doing nothing but thinking. After a half hour had passed he knocked on the door, asking her if she was okay. He listened for the barely audible "_no_" that followed as he opened the door to find her sitting on the floor in the shower, her clothes still on but soaked, her bruised eye stark contrast to the white marble walls. He knew she wasn't showering.

Killian knew what he had to do as he took off his shoes and stepped into the shower with her, the water lukewarm against his clothes, the uncomfortable feeling as they soaked now surrounding him all over his body.

But he didn't mind, because as soon as he sat down next to her she leaned against him, his shoulder heavy with the weight of her head, and he grabbed her fingers. "It's okay, lass." he stated, not really believing it. "Let me know when you are ready to get out."

And so they both sat there, the water getting colder after a while, her head on his body and his hand in hers. Emma was scared. Not for just herself, but for Killian. He didn't know anything about her, or anything about what Neal was capable of. She decided she would leave in the morning, before he got up. Her eye hurt too much to sleep anyway. But as the shower water fell onto her shirt she realized she didn't _want_ to leave. She just felt_ so safe and warm and wonderful_ with him, even though she didn't know him at all. An unspoken connection, she decided. Maybe they knew each other in a past life.

Next to her, on the same wet floor, Killian was thinking the same exact thing. Unbeknownst to one another, they were both silently agreeing on the same thing- unspoken connection.

And this thing was a beautiful thing.

Emma decided it was time to get out and stop wasting his water, as they helped each others' stiff bodies up they turned off the shower and stepped sopping wet into the hallway. She grabbed her bag and disappeared into the bathroom, changing into pajamas and coming out. Killian was setting the couch up for her, struggling a bit to get the fitted sheet over the cushions, to shove the pillows into their covers, to make sure the bed looked clean and neat and unwrinkled. He was changed into his own set of pajamas, navy sweatpants that hugged his ankles and a short-sleeve shirt that bulged against his bicep muscle. "I hope the couch will be okay." She nodded quickly as his eyebrow raised in approval. They stood there in the apartment, the night already in it's early AM hours, until Killian pulled Emma into a tight hug. "This was a brave thing you did today." He said, watching her as she climbed into the couch to make sure her head was elevated so her eye could begin to heal. He pressed a very soft kiss to her temple. "Goodnight, love." he said as he walked to his room but left the door ajar, a simple signal that he was right there, right next to her, and that she was okay. He hoped Emma understood.

She did, _she so did,_ and she smiled about it as she held her fingers to the temple he kissed as she rocked herself to sleep, her limbs folded into each other, feeling peaceful for the first time in what felt like forever.

Emma awoke, her eyes shooting open as a rushing pain traveled through her swollen eye. _Fuck,_ she forgot about that. She'd had such a sound sleep that night. The darkening aura of nighttime surrounded the apartment, and as she sat up her head crunched a piece of paper. Grabbing it and attempting to read the messy scrawl, she realized it was from Killian.

_ Emma,_

_ I had to leave for my shift and you were still sleeping. Didn't feel it was right to wake you. I'll be back around 6AM- Please help yourself to the fridge, and the teapot is on the stove if you want coffee or anything. Rest up and relax. See you soon._

_ Killian_

Emma smiled. Neal never left a note when went out drinking with his friends or anything like that. She felt the warm feeling of appreciation spread throughout her body, and it was a most wonderful feeling.

The appreciation turned into shame as she opened his fridge and made herself a grilled cheese, and felt even worse as she emptied hot cocoa mix into a mug of steaming milk. But she was hungry, and she hadn't eaten in days. Emma ate slowly, savoring the homey feel of the walnut flooring, the wood support posts, the sweet yellow light the floor lamp cast on the apartment.

She drank her cocoa even slower, mostly because it was hot, but also because the hot liquid felt amazing against her throat, and it filled her stomach with warmth. When the slim crescent of cocoa at the bottom of the mug signaled it's end, Emma felt herself frown. The microwave clock read 7:30 PM, and she had a good wait before Killian got home. She decided to do something she'd never been able to do, something she'd always dreamed of doing after she left Neal. Reaching into the loosely packed overnight bag she pulled out a polaroid camera, stood behind a white wall in the hallway, and snapped her picture, the flash blinding her for a just a moment. As the film inched out of the slot, she smiled, ready to document her healing process through her photography. She missed her profession so much. The camera was left in her bag as she settled down on the couch, opening up the heavy neurological science novel sitting on the coffee table. Emma had always had an interest in science, and so she opened up to the first chapter as the binding glue cracked a bit, and read the first title: _The Human Brain._

By the time Killian got home, the sun had risen a peek, Emma had made two more grilled cheeses, and she'd read about three-fourths of Killian's book. "How was work?" she asked him, looking him straight in the eye for the first time in a while. "Long. And tiring. We got a huge limo accident at 1AM, and that was as one would expect." he held out his white doctor's coat so she could see the blood. "No one died though!" he countered, realizing the look of horror on her face. "Everyone is alright." He grinned a bit, taking off his sneakers as Emma stood up. "Are you hungry?" she asked him. _Fuck, this conversation was awkward._

"I am, actually. But I can cook myself something. It's fine." But Emma was already in the kitchen, the pan heated and the butter simmering. "Is grilled cheese okay?"

"Grilled cheese is _excellent._" he sat down on the bar stool opposite the island, taking in Emma's figure. Her hips filled out the top of her legs, her waist curved wonderfully and her shoulders were broad. The top of her spine was just visible above the scoop at the back of her shirt, her hair falling in delicate strands around her face. She really was beautiful.

"You feeling okay about everything?" He didn't want to have to be the one to call out the purple elephant in the room, but he had to know. "As good as you would expect." Her words were short and quick, and Killian took the hint to not address it anymore. Emma transferred the grilled cheese on to the plate, averting Killian's eyes. She didn't want him to see her swollen eye. It was an ugly reminder of her past and of herself, and she hated it all.

As Killian ate his grilled cheese, they made small talk: what her job was (photographer, although Neal hadn't let her touch her cameras in a long time), where she grew up (all over, really) and numerous other things. After about a half and hour he announced he was going to sleep, and Emma nodded, taking his plate away and putting it in the sink. As soon as he left the kitchen his presence was missed- and Emma no longer felt at ease. Something about him just calmed her nerves, and made her forget, and made her smile. She decided to read a little bit of the neurological book in her little spot on the couch, falling asleep with the hardcover book in her fingertips.

Just as Killian was leaving the apartment, Emma cried out in her sleep, the noise an odd mix of hurt and pain and worry. He shut the door, taking six long strides to the couch, and sitting down to wake her up. Her hands were shaking, and she looked so small on the couch, her hands balled up against her chest. A single tear slipped down her cheek and onto the bridge of her nose as Killian shook her shoulders. "Emma, love? Emma, love, it's okay. I'm here, you are safe." Even the bruised eye flew open, her fingers fluttering to her cheek. She dreamed of Neal, the phantom punch delivered to her cheek still throbbing. "You're all right, lass. I'm here. Just a dream." He wanted to hold her, and touch her and kiss her hair and tell her she was okay. Emma was overjoyed at the fact that he was here right now and that she didn't wake up alone like every other night, and so she whispered quietly as a long shot. "Please stay."

He nodded his head, a slight grin taking over his face. "If the lady insists."

He texted Dr. David Nolan, a longtime friend during med school and at the hospital, if he would cover his shift for tonight in return for a favor that would be cashed in later. He typed very slow, for he was never good with portable technology anyway. And when the confirmation text sent through he abruptly shut off his phone, walked Emma to his bed, and laid her down in it. He changed quickly into sweats as he laid in bed next to her, not really sure if he should hold her or not, kiss her hair or not, be the big spoon or not. He stared at her, taking in her position- her body was scrunched up and tight, her hands pressed against her chest, her legs curled into her body. He didn't know much about her yet, but he knew she needed to be held. Killian scrunched closer, his hand gently curling around her waist, and she didn't cringe or shy away or anything. She let it stay there as a little guard, her shoulder blades slowly making their way towards his chest, warmth radiating between the two of them.

And suddenly, she stretched out her legs, her joints popping noisily. She arched her back forward, the satisfying sound of vertebrae cracking resonating throughout the apartment. She smiled a content smile- after all these months of curling up into herself and scrunching herself up didn't matter anymore- she had no more need to make herself much smaller than she was.

Hey guys! So this is my first multi-chapter CS fic, so let me know how it is! xoxoxoxox


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